What is and What Will Be
by CityHeightsNorthernLights
Summary: Heaven and Hell and everything in between is at stake with the discovery of Tablets, and time is of the essence. Without Castiel, the brothers are running out of options and seek help from something that isn't all angel- but bringing her into the game may just mean the end of all days for everyone. (Takes place in Season 8, doesn't change overall storyline- enjoy)
1. Pilot

Sam and Dean Winchester had been holed up in the Men of Letters' bunker for several days, scouring through records and documents that had little or no meaning to the hunters. Any account of a creature remotely close the one they were searching for had been hunted and classified and stopped being of use decades ago. It seemed that with each mountain of documents they read through that the task only got more strenuous.

By day five, Dean had become sick of the smell of old parchment and thick dust and threw down the file on top of the pile that had grown dangerously tall and threatened to topple with a slight breeze; which, both fortunately and unfortunately for the brothers, did not sweep through the headquarters. Vaguely, Sam raised his eyes from his stack of reports at the sound of the folder being set down more forcefully than usual. In all truth, he was amazed that his brother had held out so long in a stripper-free environment.

"Do you want to do a run into town?" Sam suggested, spinning his chair around and stretching out his lengthy arms, being rewarded with a relieving crack in each elbow.

"No, I don't want to do a run into town," Dean retorted, "I want to kill something, not just sit around all day, reading things we could have been done with in five minutes if it were on the internet." He pushed his chair back restlessly and rose, taking what was left of his whiskey with him. He downed the remains and looked around for the bottle, only to find that it was empty, much to his despair.

"Just give it another day and then we'll go out," Sam promised, picking up another document and beginning to flick through it. "The Men of Letters have documents that are thousands of years old, there has to be one hunter or member that had encountered a Nephilim." Dean sighed, unconvinced.

The whiskey bottle soared through the air for a moment before finally losing momentum and plunging to the ground. Just before it hit, Sam's hand snaked out and caught it, his eyes barely leaving the document. He shook the bottle to find only disappointing silence in its emptiness. His eyes flickered up to see Dean grabbing his wallet, jacket and car keys and head towards the door.

"I'll be back with more fuel," he said, jogging down the stairs and out of view.

**S**am's ears twitched as he heard the metal door of the bunker groan open and then closed and the sound of marching footsteps come up the stairs. The unmistakable, heavy thump of beers and whiskey being placed on the wooden desk finally brought Sam out of his trance of reading.

"Man, today sucks," Dean complained, shrugging off his jacket. "There was this chick at the-"

"Dean, check this out." Sam, interrupted distractedly, beckoning his brother. Interest sparked, Dean strode to Sam's side. The younger hunter pointed to an account in Bobby's worn journal, written in a messy scrawl. Dean carefully picked up the leather book, making sure none of the pages fell out, and began to read.

_"01/10/2007_

_Wyoming_

_Reported murders near a college in Laramie, Wyoming for the past month. Three attacks, all vics with hearts missing. Arrived Laramie on the 9__th__. Werewolf attacks all within 3 mile radius of Cromwell College. Searched the street the following night, ran into Keira (contact no. 31) and the werewolf. Eyes with grey light, increased strength and reflexes (shadow?)..." _

Dean paused, his eyes flickering to Sam, who looked up from another document as if to say 'I know'. Shaking his head, Dean continued.

_"Werewolf unconscious within two hits, finished the job myself. Police report states the death was the work of a serial killer that then went off the grid. Maintained contact with Keira about Grey Eyes, still no progress."_

Dean looked over at Sam who looked deep in thought.

"Could be something," Sam said, rising. "I looked through his contacts, too." Sam motioned to the other leather bound book he had been poring over. "Whoever Keira is, Bobby's got her number. I figure we call her and get her account of that night."

"Bobby's not usually so unclear. Do you think he left out something on purpose?" Dean said, reading over the page again.

Sam grabbed his mobile from his pocket and waved it at Dean.

"I guess there's only one way to find out."

Sam tapped in the number as Dean leaned in with anticipation, eager to hear if they finally had a lead. After a few moments of silence, his hope was shattered by the sound of a monotone voice informing the brothers that the phone was disconnected. Sam hung up disappointedly, stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

"Can you trace it?" Dean said, still wanting to get somewhere.

"It's a landline," Sam replied, nodding absently. "I could probably track it down to an address. I'm pretty sure the area code is for Colorado, so we wouldn't have far to go. And we've gone farther for less," he noted, remembering how they'd drive through states on hunches and rumors. Dean nodded, obviously relieved that they were done with research for the time being.

"Let's get to it then, Sammy, we can finally emerge from the Batcave."


	2. They Just Don't Mix

_5 Hours Later at the Outskirts of Denver, Colorado_

**W**eak streetlight had broken its way into my window and just lit the apartment enough to wake me from the vivid nightmare that had plagued me for the hours that I had slept, though it hardly counted as a nightmare when I was no longer scared of the vision that appeared to me every night. I rolled over drowsily, the thick blankets wrapping themselves tightly around me like a cocoon as I searched for my phone. With my eyes closed, I let my hand guide me along the cold bedside table until it hit the sleek, metallic case. I slid my hand along the cool glass screen and almost dropped the phone when I realized what the time was. It was 7pm and I was late.

With haste and the coordination of a person that had been asleep for 16 hours (not a good combination), I kicked off my layers of warmth and comfort and met the biting cold air with exposed skin. I'd fallen asleep while getting dressed. I took off my dirty socks and stained t-shirt and slipped on a clean pair of jeans, which was a rare find in my home, and replaced the grey T with a black singlet. I scuffled with my drawers, tossing aside my summer clothing to find my thick cardigan underneath. I grabbed an energy bar from the cupboard as I ran around, searching for my keys. I scoffed it down as I hopped around, trying to keep my balance as I squeezed on my boots and angled my hops towards the door. My hands fumbled when I shakily attempted to lock my apartment and then I continued to stumble down the hallway, still ravenously munching on the small bar while trying to untangle my hair, which had wrapped itself in a knot while I'd tossed and turned.

I jogged down the stairs, my footsteps still clumsy and sleepy. When I opened the entrance door of the apartment complex I was immediately hit by a wall of icy wind that forced its way down my throat so that it could freeze my lungs. It was enough to finally snap me completely from my sleepy state and have me open my eyes. I instinctively wrapped my arms around my torso and stuck my hands as far into my sleeves as they could go. My shoulders came up to my ears in a half-ass attempt to escape the biting draft. I forced myself to jog through the cold while keeping my arms locked in place. I made it down the street, around the corner and then across the road to the small but cozy diner simply named 'City Rim Diner'.

There was warm light flooding out into the street, interrupted by the occasional silhouette of a waiter or customer. I automatically picked out Trisha's shadow amongst the other inhabitants, her large bow that tied her hair back giving her away.

I rushed into alley behind the diner and through the employee's entrance, shaking off my jacket and grabbing my apron from the hook. I had only a moment to cherish being out of the cold before I made my way into where the customers waited on bar stools and in booths for whatever meal would fill them with the most warmth.

Trisha's eyes sought mine out immediately and I ducked my head down like a coward, not wanting to face her. I busied myself with two gentlemen looking for a table.

"Hi, can I help you find a table?" I asked, pushing a smile on my face and looking up at the customers. The smaller of the two, who was still much taller than myself, smiled back down at me charmingly.

"Please," he requested, gesturing for me to lead the way.

"Follow me."

I snatched two menus from the front stand as I wove my way past chairs and customers into the center section where a table had been just been cleared. Before I could place the menus on the table the man cleared his throat. I looked up at him inquisitively.

"Could we get a seat in the corner? Maybe that table?" He motioned to a booth in the far corner of the restaurant where there were limited tables surrounding it. I stopped myself from raising an eyebrow at him and instead smiled warmly.

"Sure."

We wove our way through the space again and I gestured the men to sit, placing the menus on the table.

"I'll be back to take your order momentarily," I said, smiling at each of the boys. They smiled back, the taller one sincerely while the other one grinned charismatically.

I ducked through to the kitchen and began searching for my notepad and pen. I winced as I heard the kitchen door swing open and the sound of high heels approach. Before Trisha could say anything I turned around to face her.

"I am so sorry, Trish, I know this is all my fault and I promised to be here and I have no excuse," I blurted out before she could say anything. "I really am so-"

Trisha held up her hand to silence me and raised her eyebrows. I cringed, knowing what was coming next. She put her hands on her hips, pursed her glistening, rosy lips and looked up me sternly. It was difficult to be imposing when you were a head shorter than everyone else and looked like a character from Kingdom of Hearts, but Trisha managed to hold her own.

"Honey, I swear I get worried sick over whether or not you're going to come home and I'm just glad you do!" She exclaimed in her heavy, southern belle drawl. "Don't you worry about this, worry about yourself. I mean look at you! You're a twig, when was the last time you ate? And I saw you come in here, you need warmer clothes. Do you even own anything other than singlets?" I turned my head away, grimacing.

"Trish, I'm fine. I feel bad because I you gave me this job and I never turn up on time, if I turn up at all!" Trisha shook her head vigorously, her thick, chocolate curls bouncing around her head as she did.

"You know this is the least I can do. I'd pay your bills for you if you'd let me." I went to interrupt her then but she raised a finger to stop me. "So, I let you work here instead. And speaking of working, I think those two rather handsome gentlemen are waiting for your assistance." I looked over at the two men in the booth. The taller one was shuffling through a notebook while the shorter one began to play with a spoon, bending it back as if he were ready to catapult something at his companion. I glanced back at Trish, who looked at me firmly.

"Go on now," She chided me, putting a notepad and pen in my hands. "And when we close up tonight I'm going to sit here and make sure you eat something." She pushed me towards the door and I rolled my eyes, but did as she'd instructed.

As I approached the booth the taller of the customers stashed the notebook he had been studying in his jacket, for a moment revealing a tattoo just below his collarbone. I did a double take, my eyes growing wide at the anti-possession symbol that was quickly covered by his jacket's collar. I controlled my expression before addressing the men.

"So what can I get you?" I asked, making sure to avoid staring at the larger man's chest.

"I'll have the double bacon beef burger," the shorter one said, saying the name as if his mouth was already watering. I scribbled down the order and turned to the taller man.

"Uh, I'll have the modern Greek salad, thanks." This time I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. A chuckle came from the shorter customer upon seeing my expression. I banished it quickly.

"Any drinks?" I asked while scrawling.

"Beer," the two men said eagerly at the exact same time.

"Alright, one double bacon beef burger, one modern Greek salad and two beers. Let me know if you need anything else." I turned to leave and when I was almost out of ear shot I heard the taller man whisper to his companion,

"She lives in an apartment two blocks from here, under the name of Anya Wesson."

I didn't stop to listen to more, but rather rushed back into the kitchen. Trisha was still here, talking to the chef, Alec.

"Trish, I need to talk to you," I said, giving Alec a wave.

"Sure, sweetie, what is it?" She gave me every ounce of her attention, hearing the urgency in my voice. I drew her a bit further back into the kitchen while keeping one eye on the men in the booth.

"There are two hunters here and I'm about 99% sure they're looking for me." Trish's hands gripped mine tightly and she followed my gaze over to the men.

"Oh, honey, what do we do?" She squeaked, her voice panicky. I looked down at her, giving her an apologetic smile.

"They won't hurt anyone, don't worry. But I'm going to have to trail them when they leave. I'm sorry Trish, I turn up two hours late and then leave after hardly working." The concern was washed from her face immediately and she glared at me.

"Don't you start apologizing again! I can take care of everything here, you're the one off doing dangerous stuff. Now you look after yourself and call me when you're safe. And you eat something when you can, you hear me?" I smiled fondly at Trisha. She was only five years older than me but acted as though I was a teenager who constantly scared her to death.

"I promise I'll eat when I get the chance. I'll help out here for as long as I can. Thank you, Trish." This time she rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep a small smile from coming to her face.


	3. I am Human, Aren't I?

I ran around the diner for the next half an hour, serving customers as usual, but the entire time I kept my eye on the two men in the booth. The taller one pored over documents and the notebook, while the shorter one ate ravenously. I caught small parts of their conversation as I moved, making me only more on edge. They talked about which floor I lived on, where I worked (for which they had no clue), whether or not I would talk to them and if I was safe to approach at all.

Eventually they finished their beers and left money on the table. I watched the way they walked out, tenser then when they had entered. The shorter one saw me watching and smiled again and I smiled back. As soon as he disappeared from view I paced into the kitchen and hung up my apron, grabbing my cardigan from the hook.

Trisha appeared a moment after and nodded to me.

"Be careful now, honey. Do you have a knife? Holy water? Anything?" She fussed, looking at me imploringly.

"I'll be fine Trisha, and I'll take tomorrow's shift, okay? I'll call you when I'm done and then I'll go gorge myself." I rushed over to the door and looked over my shoulder to where Trish was still staring after me. "See you in the morning."

The door swung shut behind me and I jogged down the alley and peered around the corner of the diner. A sleek black muscle car was nestled among other miscellaneous cars, looking far more cared for and loved than any of the latter. The shorter hunter stroked his hand up the bonnet affectionately before climbing into the driver's seat, while the taller man ducked into the passenger's side, still managing to bang his head on the roof.

The engine purred to life and the muffled sound of Metallica could be heard as the car reversed and started off down the street towards my apartment. I darted out into the streetlight and sprinted my way down the road. The wind made my skin numb, but I pushed on, determined to reach my apartment before they could. I dashed down a small alleyway that separated my apartment block and a row of shops and started to clamber up the fire escape. My footsteps echoed noisily on the metal rungs and I winced, hoping that the blaring music from the hunters' car would drown me out.

As I reached the second floor a window popped open next to me, scaring me half to death.

"Ryan, Jesus!" I yelped, clutching my chest.

"Sorry, Anya," Ryan gave me a sheepish grin. Luckily for him, he was an innocent looking 19-year-old and could to pull it off. I was about to continue climbing when I turned back to him.

"Hey, listen there are two guys about to come up to my apartment, just keep an eye on the cams, okay? I'll call if anything happens but it should be all right. I'll check in with you if I need to shut the cams off at all. If I don't call, come knocking." I stepped up again before looking back down. "Grab your pistol just in case. And don't let them in." Ryan rolled his eyes at me.

"I know the drill, Anya." He snapped his head back into his apartment before looking back up at me. "They're in the building, you might want to hurry." I nodded, and began to scramble up again.

"Thanks Ryan!" I called over my shoulder.

I made it to the third floor in record time and fished my keys from my pocket, unlocking the padlock that kept my window secure. I swung into the building, hoisting myself over the table beneath the window. I shut the frame and flicked the latch quickly and turned to face the apartment.

I immediately ran to my bed and grabbed the pistol that I kept underneath my pillow and then grabbed my silver knife from my bedside table and tucked it into my jeans. I shrugged off my cardigan, trying to make myself as mobile as possible.

There was a rapid tap on wood and I flicked the safety on my pistol off. I walked calmly to the door, leveling my heightened breaths. Silently, I pressed the pistol to the door, stood with my feet evenly spaced to balance my weight and put my free hand on the handle.

"Who are you?" I called. There was a small silence on the other side of the door before they answered.

"We're looking for Anya Wesson. Is this where she lives?" It was the shorter one talking, his voice louder and deeper than that of his companion's.

"That depends on what you want with her."

"We have a mutual friend that said we could get help from her." I looked at the door incredulously, as though they'd be able to read my expression through the wood.

"I highly doubt that. I'm not one to make friends with hunters." There was a murmur from behind the door.

"Are you Keira?" The taller one asked.

"What do you want?" I almost groaned, starting to get frustrated.

"We're friends of Bobby Singer's. He had an account of an attack in Wyoming and you were the only witness. We were hoping you'd be able to help us with figuring something out about that night."

I sighed, squeezing my eyes tight. _Oh, Bobby what have you done_, I thought miserably. Cautiously, I twisted the door handle and peered out into the hallway to where the hunters stood patiently. I kept my pistol firmly pressed against the door. The brothers seemed to relax a bit when I finally showed, as though they were relieved I wasn't some ghost they were chasing. The shorter one caught on first looking taken back when he pieced together who I was.

"Hey, weren't you that-"

"Who are you?" I interrupted, and it was obvious in my tone that I wanted an answer.

"I'm Dean, and this is my brother Sam," the shorter one answered, shaking his head slightly.

"Last names," I demanded, my eyes narrowing.

"Winchester."

I clenched and then unclenched my jaw, half relieved and half concerned that that was the answer. I shut the door and began to unlatch the five locks that kept my door in place. I opened the door but held up my hand for the brothers to freeze. They waited in the hallway as I whipped out my knife. I slowly ran the blade across my bicep, leaving faint line of red that began to grow. I held out the blade to the brothers.

"Your turn."

"I'm surprised you didn't chuck holy water at us," Dean joked, taking the knife.  
"It's doused in holy water," I explained as he then passed the knife to Sam. Once we were done making sure everyone was human, I gestured for them to enter my apartment.

"So why are you digging into a case that happened five years ago?" I enquired, leading them to the kitchen. I motioned for the brothers to sit as I walked around the counter, placing my pistol down by the stove where only I could reach it.

"Beer?" I asked before they could answer the last question. Dean nodded enthusiastically while Sam said "Please." I strode over to the fridge, still keeping an eye on the brothers and never fully turning my back.

"We're looking into that creature you faced, actually," Dean said as I slid the beer along the to him.

"The werewolf?" I inquired, passing the next bottle to Sam and then grabbing my own and shutting the fridge. "It died."

Dean was already chugging his beer so Sam answered for him.

"Actually, Bobby's report said there was something else. A creature with grey eyes." I felt the brothers study me closely, as if my expression would give something away. "We were hoping that you could tell us what happened."

I was a good actress after all these years and responded as naturally as I could; anyway, it wasn't particularly difficult to lie when almost everything was the truth.

"Bobby and I spent years trying to figure out what it was, but we never found anything," I said, shaking my head. "I was walking back to the college with Brad, that was the werewolf's name, when he started to change. I tried to run but he caught up with me. I new nothing about what was out there at that point so I just screamed and kicked and clawed.

"He was about to bite me when that light appeared. It was blinding, it completely blocked out the werewolf and everything else around it. A few moments later the werewolf was on the ground, blood was splattered all around it, but it wasn't dead. Bobby had seen everything, well, everything when the light wasn't blinding us." There was a moment where Sam's eyes flickered over to Dean, but he did it so quickly that I was already speaking again before I could examine what that glance meant. "He finished off the werewolf and started to talk to me, asking me if I knew where the light had come from but was but I was sobbing.

"He figured out pretty quickly that I had no idea what was going on and explained everything to me. After that we kept in touch. I hunt now, although I'm trying to settle into a home." I tensed my jaw, my voice changing from informative to authoritative, hoping that the brothers would take what I was about to tell them as important. "The woman who owns the diner lives in this building as well. I cleared if of a spirit a few months ago and she offered me a job; she lets me work whenever I'm not out hunting. The pay's not much but it lets me keep a home. Almost everyone who lives here knows what I do and they protect me as I protect them.

"Now I'm not just telling you my life story because I want to become your best friend. Bobby told me there were only two hunters I could truly trust and it was you two. He also warned me that if anybody could turn my life into a mess, it was you two. So I'll give you the information you need and that's it. I won't be dragged into any apocalypse or war or whatever it is you're involved in. I have a life here. I'm doing this as a favour to Bobby and that's it." I looked at the brothers pointedly.

"We understand," Sam said, leaning forwards on his elbows. "But I have a question. Bobby said that whatever the creature was, it had eyes with grey light, increased strength and reflexes… you didn't see any of that?"

I almost slapped myself in that moment for forgetting how Bobby had written the report. Of course, it hadn't been blinding to _him_. Sam was obviously satisfied with my silence.

"Keira, listen," he murmured before I could jump to my defense, his eyes looking at me in a beseeching manner. God, how could someone of his build have puppy eyes? How was that even fair? "You might not want to tell us everything, we get it. But finding out what that …being was is incredibly important. It could save a lot of people."

His eyes seemed so sincere that I wanted to slap him to get that look off of his face and stop torturing me. I let out a huff, which made the loose strands of my hair flitter around my face. I crossed my arms and leaned against the fridge before changing my mind and standing up straight. I began to pace, fidgeting with my hands as I did so. The brothers waited patiently, Dean still drinking and allowing his brother to do all the smooth talking. After a few seconds I stopped, took a deep breath. What was I doing?

"I didn't lie to you when I told you Bobby and I never found out what it was. And yeah, it was quick and strong. And it looked _human. _That's pretty much all we gathered." I met Sam's clearly unconvinced stare with my own stubborn one.

"And you didn't see where it went? What did it look like exactly?" I could see he was holding off on more questions.

My mouth pressed into a line as I considered what to say here. Lying seemed to be out of the question. Professional liars lying to each other just wasn't going to work out. I couldn't just flat out tell them the truth either. Bobby had told me enough about what the brothers got caught up in for me to realize I did not want to be a part of it.

"What do you want from… whatever that thing was, anyway?" I implored, not just trying to change the subject but truly inquisitive. "I mean, if you don't know what it was why is it important?" I froze, suddenly realizing what I'd just said. "Wait… do you know what it was?"

The brothers looked at each other as if having a silent conversation and I could feel my heart rate rise. This could be it. Years of searching and this could be the answer. Dean finally put down his beer and looked up at me.

"How about we exchange? You tell us what you know and we'll tell you what we're looking for."

"Or," I said, looking him dead in the eye, "You tell me why you want it first." We stared at each other for a moment, as if seeing who would back down first. Sam cleared his throat and our eyes unlocked. I glanced over to Sam, wondering what his solution would be.

"We're looking for something," Sam stated, not waiting for his brother's approval, "Called a Nephilim. We've only just discovered that they exist. They're like… hybrids. A half human and half angel."

My eyes grew wide and my mouth dropped open. I knew the existence of angels, Bobby had told me that much, but Nephilim… Was that what I'd been searching for?

"We hardly know anything about them, just that they seem to be even stronger than angels. We have no idea how that works, but…" Sam shrugged.

"So, are you going to tell us what you remember?" Dean probed, jumping in eagerly. Sam turned to glare at him but I wasn't looking. I was walking away, not quite sure where but just walking. My hands had tangled themselves in my hair and I squeezed my eyes shut. Nephilim. Half_ angel. _I felt my breaths become shallower and in my pacing I released a breathless, quivering laugh. Nephilim. Half-angel.

"I'm not a monster," I whispered to myself, the relief of it all overwhelming me. "I'm not a monster, I'm not a monster." Tears sprung to my eyes and I sunk to the kitchen floor, my knees folding under me. I sat there, laughing and crying like I was insane, but in that moment I couldn't have been happier. I wasn't a monster.


	4. Take A Step

It must have been quizzical to them, seeing me sobbing and laughing on the floor when they told me I was Nephilim. I suppose they didn't know, really, how long I'd been convinced that I was a monster. It wasn't like I suddenly got the urge to tear people to shreds or eat their brains, but I knew wasn't all human. The problem is, in the world that we knew, if you weren't human you were something that was to be hunted. But _angels. _Well, they were the exception. And to be one of them? It was like thinking you had a terrible disease but then finding out you were actually healthier than anyone else.

And so I laughed. Relieved that there was a chance for me. That all the mistakes I had made might be forgotten if I could learn to control the angelic powers I now knew I possessed. The tears, however… well, they weren't all of happiness. I'd left everyone behind, every person I'd ever known, because of these powers. Because I was far too dangerous and everyone around me was far too weak. It took me too long to figure out that I was unsafe, and by the time that I did…

I shook my head vigorously, dispelling the thought. I wiped away my tears on my sleeve and stretched my head up, taking a deep breath. After allowing my heart a moment to slow down to a steady pace, I tilted my head to the side to look at the brothers. Dean stared at me with his eyebrows raised, obviously confused, but Sam… Sam had something close to sympathy on his face. Like he knew what I felt and he was relieved for me.

"It was you, wasn't it?" He asked gently, leaning forward. "You fought the werewolf. You were the one with grey eyes. You're the Nephilim."

Slowly, I got to my feet and leaned against the wall. I pursed my lips in thought for a moment before nodding.

"I've been thinking I was a monster for so long," I explained, my voice strained with relief. "I never meant to hurt anyone, but these powers… they're uncontrollable. The werewolf was the first time they really went haywire. I suppose it was the first time I really needed them. I could feel them from that point onwards, but about two years later it just exploded again." I remembered the moment, as if a rope had been severed and I'd just _snapped_. "I mean I was just walking and then-" I cut my sentence short quickly, only just realizing what I was about to say. _And then I killed him. _

"-then I just felt it burst forward," I finished lamely, hoping that neither of the brothers had put too much thought into the abrupt pause. I continued quickly. "I just don't let myself get close to people anymore. I always thought I'd hurt them. This is the longest I've let myself stay in a town. I haven't hurt anyone yet." I realized how disheartening I was beginning to sound and decided to perk up. "But I know what I am now. I know what to look for to know what I can do and how to control it. I might have a chance to finally settle into a normal life." A smile began to crawl onto my face again, pulling up the corner of my mouth slightly. "Maybe I don't have to be afraid anymore."

I'd been so distracted for that moment that I didn't realize the intense silent conversation that had been happening between the Winchesters. Both had their eyebrows knitted together and their mouths pressed tight. Sam tensed and relaxed his jaw and Dean looked at him intently. Finally, they spoke.

"We can't," Sam said sternly, his eyes not leaving Dean's.

"Do we have any other choice?" Dean replied. His voice was pained; obviously regretting whatever it was that was causing their dilemma. Sam had no response, dropping his eyes and letting out a frustrated breath.

I raised an eyebrow as my eyes flickered between the hunters.

"Do I get to hear it?"

Reluctantly, the brothers looked to me.

"We think… we think you might be the only one who can help us," Sam sighed.

"Help you with what?" I said cautiously, but I already knew what was coming.

The brothers gave me sheepish looks. Dean seemed to puck up the courage to say it first. He looked me in the eye, and I could see what he was really trying to say was 'I'm sorry'. But different words came from his mouth.

"With stopping the end of the world."


	5. The Parting Glass

The weather got progressively worse that night. What had started out as light rainclouds had turned into ominous storm clouds streaked with flashes of blinding lightning and menacing booms of thunder that were so boisterous and loud that I could occasionally feel the apartment shake. Usually, I loved storms, the smell of rain and the flashes of lightning that would reveal the world outside for a split second before drawing the curtain of darkness over it again, but tonight was different. I couldn't enjoy the drumming of rain on my window or the cold that came with it as I curled up in my bed and watched a horror movie as I usually did. No, tonight there were more pressing matters on my mind.

While the brothers sat at the counter discussing options, mentioning names and places that I didn't know, I strolled over and looked out of the rain-streaked window. The tapping on the roof suddenly became a hammering barrage of hail and I heard Dean gasp behind me. I turned to see him running to the door, desperately calling 'my baby' as he sprinted out the door and slammed it closed behind him. Silently, I raised an eyebrow at Sam.

"His car," he explained simply.

I nodded understandingly. I hadn't spoken in a while, and for some strange reason I had a fear of disrupting my muteness. I had listened in silence as the brothers explain that the angels and demons were at war and that if the angels were defeated it would mean more demons roaming the earth than ever before. My heart sank as they told me that they had few options as to how they could defuse the situation and that time was running short before someone was going to do something drastic and seemed that the demons were in the most able position do pull such a stunt. Nothing they had found on any tablet so far had offered them a way out, only ways to be pulled further in. Eventually the brothers had started talking to each other, searching desperately for a way that wouldn't involve me.

"You can stay here the night," I whispered finally, my voice quiet from the time I had spent mute. Sam looked up at me and was about to speak when I spoke first. "The hail doesn't look like it's going to ease up anytime soon." He nodded.

"Thank you," Sam said. I'd begun to notice that when he wanted something or he was being gentle, his voice would be have an overly sweet tone to it, the epitome of honey coated words, and his eyes would grow wide. I had a feeling that when he was younger he'd have been able to 'cute' himself out of any bad situation. Cute usually went hand in hand with happy, but I could tell that he was far from that.

"You and Dean… do you guys ever catch a break? Ever have anything really good happen to you?" I asked. Every time I'd spoken to Bobby it had seemed like the world was going to hell for him and his adoptive sons. I couldn't help but wonder if they were constantly stuck on the rollercoaster of bad luck, the ups meaning that their worst problem for the day was a rogue monster and not an entire army on their tail.

Sam gave me a sad half smile.

"I suppose with all the bad stuff that happens to us, we begin to appreciate the little things. Whenever we get to go to a bar and we're not there to hunt something that wants to rip our throats out, that's usually counted as a great day. Things have been so much worse before so… yeah. Yeah, I'd say good things have been happening."

I studied his face and a small smile of my own crept upon my lips. There was hope in his voice. It was like a small island in the middle of an ocean of sadness, but it was still there and that's what mattered. Maybe knowing the Winchesters wasn't going to be so bad after all.


	6. The Catalyst

It was a long night. I'd been awake for so little time that it didn't really bother me that we stayed up talking things out until four in the morning. Eventually Sam started to drift off and Dean told him to crash on one of the couches, which he did so with little resistance. I told Dean that he should sleep too and said goodnight. I went to my bedroom and settled in under my various layers of thick blankets and eventually drifted off.

And, as predicted, the nightmares came to plague my mind.

It was dark, as usual, and my eyes were heavy as I leaned my head against the car door, despite that it had me bending my neck at an uncomfortable angle. I watched the dark woods blur as our car sped past them. There were no streetlights interrupting the darkness, in front of us and behind us there was only weakly moonlit forest.

My stepfather was driving and playing The Smiths 'Sleep', while my mother sang along softly next to him. My little brother, Max, had fallen asleep in his car seat. I blinked, feeling my eyelids growing substantially heavier with each passing second. My head dropped down and rolled to the side as I was passing through my last few seconds of consciousness, my breaths growing deeper and the woods beginning to fade from my sight…

The sudden, ear splitting bang as the pine tree flattened the old car had me blocking my ears as I screamed. I crumpled to the ground as I watched the woods were illuminated by the blaze that consumed the car. There were no screams from my family inside, and I knew that they were dead. Despite the fact that I could never save them, my feet dragged themselves towards the wreck. At this point, I never even stopped to consider why I wasn't in the mangled car with them; the panic consumed me far too much to ever go into detail.

I was running towards the wreck when I was suddenly swept off my feet, and I heard a flurry of fluttering wings. A man cradled me to his chest tightly and began to carry me away without ever looking at the crash. I couldn't see much of his face but his golden hair was illuminated like some sort of halo as the orange blaze lit it from behind.

I began to kick out, fighting away from this man who I'd have sworn was a stranger but somehow felt so familiar. He set me down, but gripped my arms tightly. I saw more of his face now, which caught some of the light. His thin lips that were pressed into a hard line and his eyes that watched me carefully and sadly, his face growing dimmer as if a dark thought had just sprouted in his mind. Gently, he reached out and placed two fingers on my forehead.

I felt searing pain in my torso, as though an invisible knife was etching designs into my ribs. I cried out and reached for the man in front of me, begging for his help, to make the agony stop. He knelt there, distress drawn on his face, but he made no move to aid me. I fell to my knees, clutching at my ribs and eventually finding myself sobbing on the ground as I tucked my legs up to my stomach and wrapped my arms securely around myself. When the invisible knife withdrew, leaving my ribs throbbing in anguish, I finally looked up to see that the man was gone. And so was the car crash. I was in my room, lying curled up in my bed. I felt something velvety in the palm of my hand and looked to see that it was a length of shimmering gold thread. In the distance I could hear the sound of sirens as they whizzed past the house and down the road to the woodland, where my mother and brother and stepfather's corpses lay.

The scene rippled in front of me and I was no longer in my bed. No, now I stood above a mangled and bloody corpse. Bradley Grant; that had been the werewolf's name. His face was distorted due to the bruises that swelled his skin and darkened his eye. His arm was clearly broken, and one of his claws, which had not retracted despite his unconscious state, had been ripped off, revealing the flesh that it had been previously tied to. But his chest was by far the worst. Most of his shirt had been disintegrated by whatever I had done. The scraps that were left were painted red with blood from the lacerations that had cut into his torso. Loose skin hung limply, barely connected. His chest still heaved with much effort, shifting the wounds and sending blood flooding from every opening.

I didn't run.

I didn't cry.

I didn't scream.

I'd seen this too many times. It was like every emotion that I had felt when it had happened had been drained from me over the years, like I'd run out of reactions and all I could do was live through it over and over and wait for the morning to come.

I turned to the man in the shadows, which were suddenly illuminated by the grey light that I emitted. Bobby Singer stepped forward, his hands raised and open. I took two shaky steps away, letting the hunter have a clear path to the body. Bobby watched me carefully but made his way to the werewolf. He brought forth his pistol, loaded with silver bullets, and released a single shot into the werewolf's heart. It's chest stopped heaving, the blood stopped pumping and finally, the monster was still.

Again, the image in front of me shifted and I was standing in an alley, my hand tightly gripped by a young man by the name of Andrew O'Shea. Faint streetlight illuminated his handsome face, which had a smile playing at the corner of his lips. We'd stopped walking and he turned to look down at me, his dark eyes twinkling in what little light made it to us. He leaned in and I rose on my toes to meet him. Of course, like every night, I never got all the way.

It was like a tidal wave hit me and I gasped at the raw power that started exploding from my chest. Desperately, I clawed at my torso as though I could dig whatever it was out. I was faintly aware of Andrew calling my name as the alley lit up with grey light.

"Keira? Keira what's happening?" Andy reached out to me as I begun screaming but it wasn't from the pain; he had to get away from me. He had to run.

"Andy, go!" I yelled.

"I'm not leaving you!" He said defiantly, reaching to help me again.

"NO!" I shrieked, but it was too late. The grey light intensified and everything around me began to quiver. The windows on the buildings surrounding us shattered and rained down on us, bikes and garbage cans and any other objects in the alleyway were forced away from me, hitting walls and poles as they flew through the air.

This included Andy.

It took me three minutes before I could rein in the light and when I finally did I felt like I was going to vomit and then pass out. I staggered over to where Andy lay and fell to my knees next to his lifeless body. I was trembling as I reached over a checked his pulse, but of course, it never changed. Andy was dead and I had killed him.

And now came the final wave of my dream, the part that had yet to unfold in my life. I was standing in a field with two armies on either side of me. The soldiers of the one to my left had black eyes and watched me intently, their faces full of both anticipation and hatred. There were a countless number of them, with their leader being a stout man with dark stubble covering lower face. He wore a black suit and held a rather ancient looking slab in his hand.

To my right, another army glared at me, not quite with the abhorrence of the one to my left but with a fair amount of disdain, nonetheless. Each held a blade with three sides that shimmered a white-silver. Their leader appeared to be very formal looking woman. Her hair was tied back into a tight bun and she wore a grey suit. She smiled at me, although it seemed rather forced. Her hand was held out in front of her and she beckoned me.

Much to my surprise, in front of me was a third party. Over two years my dreams had not changed. Not once. But now there was a man who stood at the edge of the field, watching with an almost bored expression. His face was old, there was no doubting that, but there was something else… he appeared timeless. Like he could have been ten thousand years old, or he could have been sixty. And there was an unmistakably shadowy aura around him, which he seemed to reflect in his black suit and coat. His dark hair was swept back, which made one look to his eyes rather than any other feature, and his eyes saw far beyond what I did, I could feel it. Numbly, I made my way towards this newcomer.

"Who are you?" I asked coming to a stop a few meters from the man, if he was one at all.

"Keria, you took your time getting here," He responded. His voice seemed like it only had two settings, monotone or contempt, and I definitely couldn't see that changing through the course of our conversation.

"Why tonight?" I asked, not knowing why I was asking this figment of my imagination and not a friendlier one. "Why now? What's changed?"

"Your course. Had you had the wits to tell those boys to leave I would have stayed away. But now it seems that I have been drawn into this little scuffle of yours." He gestured to the armies on either side of us, as though what was about to happen was like two children playing with those little green army men.

"And, pardon me if I'm being rude, but who are you? Why are you drawn to my course at all?" I couldn't deny that there was a bit of sass in those sentences. The man caught on and the scorn in his expression and his voice grew.

"You're an insignificant error in the system to someone as old as me and I merely wish to correct you before you corrupt something else. I'm here because if you kill a Fate my job becomes slightly more chaotic and I would wish to prevent that, since it doesn't seem like I have anything better to do but wait. So don't, for one moment, believe that you are any more important to the inevitable than a single branch on a sapling in a forest. If you fall it means you'll take something as equally insignificant with you, in this case, your companions in this vision." I looked at the demons on one side of me, and then to the beings that I guessed were angels. _I _was going to destroy them?

I hesitated before speaking again, trying to tone down the arrogance in my voice. It was kind of hard not to let it in when you where being called insignificant in your own dream.

"What did you mean about killing fate?" I questioned. This man, the inevitable, whatever he was, looked behind me. I turned to face a kind of tear in the dimension. Through this hole I could see my mother, stepfather, my brother and I in the car; it was the night of the accident. I saw a woman emerge from the edge of the woods a hundred meters down the road. She was young with straight bottle blonde hair, which she had swept back professionally. He wore thick-framed black glasses and held an old looking journal in one hand and a piece of gold thread in the other. As the car neared, she raised her hand. There was a crack and a large pine tree toppled, falling on top of the car, crushing it and everyone in it. I saw the younger version of myself in the arms of the golden haired man. When I looked to the woods, the woman was gone, leaving only the thread to show she was ever there.

The loop closed and I turned back to the shadowy man, my face twisted in confusion and sickness. It wasn't an accident. I'd had my suspicions, but now that I actually knew…

"That is why you would seek to kill her. You would have found that out in your own sweet time of course, but I thought I'd cut to the chase and save myself from having to watch you closely as to make sure you didn't do something completely stupid."

"Why?" I whispered, hardly caring about his reasons, "Why did she want me dead?"

"Because of this," he motioned to the armies again. "Because you may mean the extinction of two whole species. Although they will die eventually, it seems the Fates do not want you to control that many destinies if you decide to have a temper tantrum. The Fates will come for you, and you'll kill them. However, I'd like you to part on better terms than that, you see, they do assist me occasionally."

"The extinction of species? Killings Fates? Why is _any _of this happening? Can't I just, I don't know, walk away? Go live in some godforsaken forest in Russia?"

"The world here is already godforsaken," he stated, sounding like he was almost bored of pointing it out to people. "No matter where you go, you can't run from yourself. The only way you're getting out of any of this alive is by keeping your head, which is an unfortunately rare trait for your species. So I suggest you begin practicing."

The man reached into his coat's pocket and withdrew a golden waist pocket watch. Without expression he looked up from it to me.

"Do try to keep the casualties to a minimum, this newer era does seem to be piling up the body count and my reapers are getting a bit weary."

My eyes snapped up to his face and I blinked incredulously.

"Y-your reapers?" I swallowed. "You mean you're…"

"Death," he commended. "And I recommend that next time you see me, you should not have the corpse of a Fate at your feet."

With the hand that was free of his pocketwatch, Death snapped his fingers and I awoke.


End file.
